


The Hardest Part Of Living (Is Just Taking Breaths To Stay)

by intolauren



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5396945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intolauren/pseuds/intolauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 4x09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Disclaimer: The title of this is actually a beautiful line from the equally beautiful song, Miserable At Best by Mayday Parade.)
> 
> I enjoyed writing this A LOT and I’m not sure why other than the fact that ever since Olicity have been a thing, there has been a very huge part of me that wants Oliver to see just how much Felicity means to his life. I mean, he knows I think, but I want him to KNOW, you know??
> 
> Anyway at half 2 in the morning when the feels from 4x09 were still as ripe as ever I decided it would be a good idea to write this… so considering the way 4x09 ended, you can probably conclude for yourself what the tone of this will be. And that’s the only disclaimer/warning I feel I need to make.

_“She’s awake,”_

_The two words Oliver Queen never thought would break his heart._

 

It had been six days since the duel with Damien Darhk. Six days since he had carried the bleeding but otherwise lifeless body of his fiancée, Felicity Smoak, all the way to the emergency room. Six days since she had been taken from his arms and rushed straight into an immediate blood transfusion. Six days since he had lost track of the hours that passed as he sat in the bright yellow plastic chairs in the harshly lit hospital corridor, his eyes never once leaving the door that Felicity had been taken through, the door that kept him sealed away from the only person that meant anything to him anymore.

At some point Felicity’s mother, Donna Smoak had arrived, still in her pink party dress and 5 inch heels; he vaguely remembered thinking how much Felicity would appreciate those shoes. Donna was crying and Oliver had found his arms around her, her head resting on his shoulder, but he couldn’t recall how his body had come to be that way. He knew that a little while later she’d stood up, said she needed some air, and he’d been left alone again.

Thea came. She’d sat beside him with her hand rested on his knee and she hadn’t said anything at all and Oliver remembered that he was grateful for that. When Donna came back some time later, Thea had held her hand tightly.

And then a nurse had approached them, a tall guy in a long white coat that had pen ink smudged just below the pocket but was otherwise pristine. He’d asked them if they were family and before Oliver could even speak, Donna had quickly and firmly said that they were, all of them. She’d looked Oliver in the eyes and smiled, the smallest of smiles, but a smile all the same and he’d wished briefly that he was holding her hand and not Thea.

The nurse had taken a seat with them and Oliver had tried to listen to what he was saying but he couldn’t get his brain to cooperate. There was too much white noise and he hadn’t been sure if it was internal or external. The nurse had talked to them for what felt like days but in reality had been minutes, using terms and abbreviations Oliver was sure Felicity would be able to understand no questions asked.

“Is she okay?!” he’d snapped, his fists clenching, after awhile and he’d immediately regretted the venom in his voice; the venom that he felt for no one else but himself for ever having put Felicity in danger.

“Mr Queen, she’s… alive. That’s all that matters for now,” had been the nurse’s reply, a reply that had left a sour taste in Oliver’s mouth.

“But she isn’t awake, is she? You can’t wake her up?” Oliver had asked, swallowing down the bile that had threatened to rise in his throat.

“I’m afraid not, at least right now. But she’s stable, as stable as we could wish for a patient in a coma to be,”

“She’s strong,” Donna had whispered, reaching over Thea’s lap to clutch Oliver’s hand in her own and Oliver had been unsure whether she was trying to reassure him or herself more.

“She is. She’s very strong. But there’s-” the nurse had continued, and Oliver remembered hearing Thea’s quick intake of breath as soon as the word but left his lips.

“… a chance she might not remember things when she wakes up,” the nurse had continued. “It’s common in cases of trauma like this. Sometimes it’s temporary, sometimes it’s permanent. It’s hard to tell until the patient wakes up. It’s unclear as well just how significant the memory loss will be. It could be just the trauma itself that the brain represses, or it could be whole chunks of time. We have to make the loved ones of the patient aware of this, because the odds are always high in favour of it occurring,”

Oliver’s brain had truly refused to continue listening after that. He’d stayed sitting where he was but his eyes were back on the dark wood doors again, in the exact spot they’d been before, and he couldn’t hear anything except the noise inside his head. The noise inside his head that seemed adamant to torture him by replaying the scene that had lead to him being sat inside this corridor in the first place.

 _Gun shots. So many gun shots, he couldn’t catch his breath. The sound of metal crunching and cracking, of glass threatening to splinter as the bullets came into contact with the car._  
_The feel of Felicity’s body underneath his, her hammering heart pressing against his skin, her terrified cries as the bullets ceased to relent, slamming against the car again and again and again. Shards of broken glass under his fingertips, bouncing off of their bodies and scattering the floor._  
_The smell of smoke, of gunpowder, of Felicity’s perfume and the wine on her breath from dinner; a cocktail of scents he’d had nightmares about for as long as he could remember, waking in a cold sweat at the mere thought of such scents having any reason to exist in the same place at the same time._  
_The sight of endless darkness, and then of Felicity’s perfect, bright blue eyes, wide in terror and then squeezed tightly closed in protection as the glass began to cascade onto their bodies, a trickle of deep red blood already falling from above her brow where a tiny shard had made contact with her porcelain skin._  
_The taste of acid in his mouth as his body’s automatic survival response finally kicked in and reminded him that he had to get her out of there before it was too late._

“I need to see her… can we see her?” Oliver had snapped, barely recognising that once again, he’d interrupted the nurse in the middle of a sentence.

“She’s in the ICU, so one at a time, but yes, you can see her,”

Glancing up at Donna, he’d told her to go, having just enough presence to let her go first. Donna squeezed his hand again and then leaned over to kiss his forehead, and then she’d followed the nurse along the corridor towards her daughter.

The longer Donna was gone, the harder it had become for Oliver to sit still. His fingers had started to tap furiously on the armrest of their own accord and before too long he was pacing the corridor.

“It’s not your fault,”  
“She’ll be okay,”  
“Ollie, please listen to me,”  
“You didn’t do this, you saved her, don’t you see that?”

Thea’s last attempt at trying to make him feel better had made him snap.

“Thea, you don’t get it! This is all because of me! So quit trying to change my mind about it and just leave me alone! You being here right now isn’t helping at all!” he’d yelled, the hurt registering on Thea’s face barely a second after he’d first opened his mouth to speak, her hazel eyes clouding with salt water as her brother, the person she admired more than anyone in the world, had aimed such hate-filled words in her direction.

Oliver had known he should apologise, as soon as he spoke he knew he didn’t mean it, but once his mouth closed again it remained that way, even as Thea had shrugged, wiped her eyes and walked away. He’d rammed his knuckle into the hard brick wall as Thea had rounded the corner at the end of the corridor and the time between then and finally being able to see Felicity was blurred beyond the confines of his short term memory.

Felicity’s room was dark, the blinds in the window pulled tightly closed, the only light source the machines that were monitoring every inch of her body.  
He’d stood at the end of her bed for the longest time, taking in every inch of her, following the coloured wires as they ran from her chest, her nose, her wrists, her fingers, all the way to the corresponding machines, their beeping and whirring the only evidence that the beautiful blonde was still alive. She was hardly recognisable; her entire body was her, _of course it was her,_ but she’d never looked less like the Felicity he knew in all the time he’d known her. Oliver remembered noticing though, that somehow amidst all the tragedy, her red painted nails had remained perfectly intact, not even a speck of paint had chipped, and the sight had made Oliver smile.  
At some point he’d reached her side and grasped her hand in his, needing to reassure himself that her skin was still warm, the way it always was. He’d watched her chest rise and fall, bittersweet relief and comfort flooding his body before he’d been unable to stand any longer.

His tears had started to fall at the exact moment his knees had buckled and fell too.

That exact moment was also the moment he’d realised that there was something he needed more than oxygen, and that something was her.

 

That was six days ago, and it was just after 3 in the morning now and Oliver was on his way back to the hospital. He’d barely left there since the accident; the only times he’d gone back to the apartment was when someone had exerted physical force to make him go home and sleep or shower or eat, all of which he’d been furiously neglecting, wanting to stay permanently by Felicity’s side in case she woke up. Being at the apartment without her was almost worse than the ferocious memories of that night that still continued to plague his every waking thought.

Felicity was the kind of person whose presence and energy fuelled a room. Even long after she’d left, you could tell she’d been there because she made you feel lighter inside somehow. And that lightness took hours to dissipate. Oliver had grown used to that lightness, had accepted it as part of him now, had identified it as the best part of him because it was ultimately, a part of her.

But the longer Felicity lay unconscious in the hospital, the less Oliver could feel that lightness inside him and the less he recognised himself whenever he happened to catch his reflection somewhere.

The nights were the worst. Sleeping alone in his own home, in a bed without Felicity, without her soft snores and her warm body pressed up against his and her tiny voice babbling about something long after they’d turned off the light, left him feeling emptier than he ever thought possible. And for a man who had spent the vast majority of his life feeling empty, that really was something. On the extremely rare occasions where he’d even bothered going to bed, much less actually fallen asleep, he’d woken in the darkness in a cold sweat and reached out for her instinctively, to find only the stinging chill of sheets she wasn’t sleeping on,the reminder that he was alone hitting him powerfully in the gut and leaving him numb.

Everything was too quiet. He couldn’t remember the world ever being this quiet, the deafening silence nauseating him and causing empty sobs to escape his throat and rack his body without warning. He didn’t see the point in breakfast without Felicity’s running commentary on her dreams, on the news report, on the colour of the sky that day. He didn’t see the point in showering if it wasn’t followed by Felicity taking her turn under the water jets, listening to her sing at the top of her voice to whatever song happened to be stuck in her head at that moment in time, giggling softly to herself whenever she attempted and failed a particularly high note. He didn’t see the point in watching TV or reading a book if he wasn’t interrupted every 5 minutes by a thought she’d accidentally said out loud, a kiss on his cheek, her cold feet seeking the warmth under his thighs or the constant clicking of her computer keyboard as she worked beside him.

Not one single part of his life was the same without Felicity around and simply remembering to breathe had become one of the hardest things for Oliver to do.

 

The nurse was waiting for Oliver when he arrived back at the hospital. He smiled at him, one of those medical professional smiles, as though you were someone who could break into a thousand pieces at any second, whether you were the patient or not.

“Is she okay?” Oliver asked, unable to stop his hands from shaking inside his pockets.

“Mr Queen, she’s fine. She’s awake and she’s talking and she’s as fine as anyone in her situation could be,” the nurse replied, smiling that smile again.

“Can I see her?”

“You can, but Mr Queen, there’s something you need to know before you do,”

Oliver swallowed, his stomach churning with emotions he couldn’t put a name to.

“What’s wrong?” he gulped, clenching his fists out of habit whenever his emotions threatened to become too much.

“Miss Smoak has done remarkably well considering her circumstances and while we haven’t had time to run many tests yet, from what she’s said so far in answer to our questions, there’s been fairly significant memory loss,”

“How significant?” Oliver stuttered, feeling his heart in his mouth.

“From what we can make out so far, she doesn’t remember anything at all from the last year and a half, maybe even two years. I’m sorry, Mr Queen, but she’s very confused and distressed mostly about the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand,”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity wakes up and can't remember the last 2 years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so I have no idea how I even feel about this chapter. Originally I hadn't planned to add another chapter but SO MANY people asked me to please continue and I just caved under pressure and kind of realised that I couldn't leave this story where I planned on leaving it. It just wouldn't be FAIR. But the reason I didn't originally plan another chapter is because I wasn't at all confident that I was skilled enough as a writer to do it any kind of justice whatsoever. And believe me when I say that I have cried my eyes out whilst writing this on several occasions because it. just. wasn't. good. enough. I still feel like deleting the entire thing and then deleting myself from the internet. But I won't because despite the turmoil in my head, I did work hard on this. I had to take myself to some dark places that I haven't let myself go in a long time just to be able to get inside Oliver's head and it wouldn't make sense to put myself through that to then just delete the entire thing.  
> Anyway, this is what I came up with. And if it's not as bad as I think it is... maybe I'll continue it. It has so much potential as a concept, I know that, I just don't feel confident enough in my own writing skills to be able to live up to that potential. I have all the ideas, I just can't seem to write them in the way that I need to.  
> Basically all I'm trying to say is that this isn't anything compared to the first chapter in my opinion. Or maybe it is and I'm just doing that thing I do all the time where I hate myself too much... blah.  
> Oh and I also just wanted to thank the person who left me a review on the first chapter explaining the difference between a nurse and a doctor; I'm not a medical professional in any way, shape or form, and I had no idea that the two were so utterly different! I now know that it wouldn't have been a nurse that is so heavily involved with Felicity's care, it would have been a doctor, and I just wanted to apologise for not doing enough research on that before I started!
> 
> There was so much more I wanted to include in this beginning note but I'm aware I've rambled on for 2000 characters and I need to just... not.  
> OKAY... rambling is ending now. Enjoy?? Yes, enjoy. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Two.

“Hey,” Oliver whispered, closing the door to Felicity's room softly behind him.

He thought she was asleep but as soon as he spoke her eyes snapped open.

“Oliver, hi,” she whispered back, the corners of her mouth turning up a little into a small smile.

Her smile. It felt like a lifetime since he'd seen her smile and the sight made his legs shake and his heart pound in his chest. She was smiling. She was alive.

“Are you alright?” Oliver knew it was a pointless question but he didn't know what else to say. Besides, _“I love you,”_ and he wasn't sure she'd appreciate that in her current state. His body threatened a sob at the thought but he swallowed it down fiercely.

“I'm... confused. Very confused. And tired, surprisingly. And apparently my hair hasn't been washed in nearly a week. So add 'gross' to the list of the things I'm feeling in answer to your question,” she croaked, and then smiled again, and it was such a _Felicity_ thing to say that Oliver found himself smiling too.

Gross was the furthest from what she looked. She looked breathtaking, simply because she was alive. As long as her eyes blinked and her heart beat, she would never look anything less than beautiful.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up," Oliver said, softly.

"Thanks, but I'm glad you weren't. I was... a little hysterical, to say the least. And everything hurt when I tried to move which made me panic even more and- yeah, I'm glad you weren't here to see that," Felicity laughed, her shoulders vibrating, and then looked like she regretted it.

"But you're not in any pain now, right?" he asked, worried.

"Nope. Well, not unless I move. Which is fine with me since moving seems way too exhausting right now anyway. I feel like I might need a nap if I so much as wave at you. You know, I coughed earlier and I am still regretting it. It felt like I had just dislocating every single bone in my body all at the same time," she smiled, but her face contorted at the memory and Oliver winced just thinking about how much pain she'd been in if it wasn't for the strong drugs she was on.

"Your doctor said you were medicated. But you know you need to let him know if you need more medication, okay?"

"Mhmm, I know. My doctor has a very nice smile. He's been very helpful," she giggled.

She sounded the way she did after a few glasses of wine and Oliver smiled again. He suppressed the urge to laugh at just how _normal_ she seemed. Her voice was a little softer than usual and some of her words were slurred due to the pain meds, but other than that, if he closed his eyes, she was just Felicity. No gunshot wounds or memory loss or bruises on her skin. Just Felicity.

He was about to speak when suddenly her soft voice raised and her eyes widened in panic and confusion.

“What happened, Oliver? No one will tell me but I need to know. I can't stand not knowing. I don't like not being able to make sense of things," she said quickly, her body absurdly still compared to her darting eyes and fast moving mouth.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. We don't have to talk about that now. You need to just relax, okay?" Oliver took a step towards her bed, wishing more than anything that he could just pull her into his arms and take her home.

"I have spent the last week relaxing, Oliver. I have done nothing but lie here for six and a half days. And I need someone to tell me why. I don't know what happened, I feel sick thinking about not knowing what happened. I need someone to just be honest with me and from what I can remember, as long as I've known you, you've been able to be honest with me so please, reassure me that hasn't changed and tell me what the hell I'm doing here. Please,” she almost yelled; if her voice hadn't been significantly hoarse due to lack of use over the last week Oliver knew she would have woken the patients in the rooms next door.

Her lip trembled and she looked like she was going to cry.

Once again, Oliver didn't know what to say. He looked at her, propped up in bed with considerably less wires attached to her body now but her eyes dark and exhausted even after a week of constant sleep, the cut above her eye stitched and healing but bruised, her skin paler than he'd ever seen, and tried not to cry. Where could he even possibly begin?

"Felicity, it's... complicated," he began.

She sighed. "Look, I'm aware that I just spent the last week of my life asleep but I didn't miraculously lose my brain capacity, you know? I'm sure I can keep up,"

Oliver found himself smiling again. That was his Felicity.

"Okay, I'm going to try and explain this to you as best I can. I know you're confused and a lot of what I'm about to tell you will only make that worse. I'm just warning you,"

"I can handle it," she smiled, an unsure smile but a smile all the same and Oliver knew that she was right.

She could handle it. She could handle anything. She always could.

"There was an accident. You were shot-"

"I guessed that from the bullet sized holes under the dressing on my ribs and thigh, you didn't have to explain that part," she interrupted.

Smiling sheepishly at him as soon as she spoke, Oliver guessed she hadn't meant to say that out loud. She waved her hand weakly in a gesture for him to continue and closed her eyes.

"If you're tired, I can go," he offered after a few seconds of silence.

Her eyes snapped open again as he spoke and she shook her head furiously, or as furiously as she could for someone who couldn't move very much.

"Don't go!" she said, louder than anything she'd said so far tonight. "I mean... please. I'm okay. It's okay," Her eyes warmed, and her cheeks too, and Oliver knew that he couldn’t leave her even if she wanted him to.

He took a seat beside her bed and instinctively reached for her hand. But instead of her fingers curling around his tightly the way he was used to, her hand stayed limp inside his and she smiled uncomfortably and it was only then that he remembered he couldn't just take her hand anymore.

Oliver spluttered an apology and pulled his hand away, feeling a sting as the cool air replaced the warmth of her skin.

"It's okay," she said quietly. "My doctor said that I- that we- that you're... how did that even happen? Because all I can remember is you being with Sara. Who is very pretty. And smart..."

Oliver smiled. "It's a long story but it ends with me realising that I was pretty much in love with you all along. I mean... sorry if that was weird but-"

"It's okay, you're just being honest. I need that,"

Oliver watched her face, watched her searching eyes as they took in the man in front of her. She looked him in the eyes for a long few seconds, like she was trying to remember. Without warning, a tear fell down her cheek. She caught it with her fingertip and wiped it away quickly but Oliver had seen the look in her eyes. She didn’t remember.

A sob escaped his throat and he tried to disguise it with a cough as she reached over and took his hand again.

"I'm hurting you, I'm so sorry," she whispered, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.

"It's not your fault, it's okay," Oliver wasn't sure whether he was trying to convince her of that, or himself.

He tried to focus on the warmth of her skin against his, the way her thumb traced patterns over his knuckles, something she'd always done to soothe him. The gesture was so like that of the Felicity from before the accident and he wondered if maybe some things were impossible to forget no matter how much trauma a human soul went through, whether the tiny little things she probably didn't even realise were _things_ , could never truly be forgotten. The thought gave him hope, a minuscule amount of hope, but hope all the same.

"I'm sorry, Oliver. I'll remember, I promise I'll remember, eventually. It's just so hard... I feel so helpless," she whispered, her pained voice breaking into his internal monologue, her eyes clouding over with tears again.

"Don’t," he whispered back. "Don't apologise. You have nothing to apologise for. None of this is your fault,"

Felicity smiled and squeezed his hand.

"Oliver, I- one of the last things I remember is that you rescued me. There was some crazy psycho about to plunge a needle full of Vertigo into my neck, but he didn't, because you were there. You saved me and I remember just how big of a sacrifice you made in that moment before you did so. I remember that. A lot of what happened after that is blurry, but I remember that you saved my life. And I don't know if I ever thanked you for that but I hope I did. Just in case I didn’t though, thank you,"

Oliver remembered too, of course he remembered. How could he forget the first time he ever truly realised just how much Felicity meant to him? If he was honest with himself, he'd been in love with her ever since that day, maybe even before.

"You did thank me," he smiled. "But you're welcome all the same,"

Smiling back, Felicity squeezed his hand again.

"Have you spoken to my mom? Is she okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, she's been staying in town. She's visited you everyday. She doesn't know you're awake yet because it's just so late and I didn’t want to wake her. But I'll call her as soon as it's light and she'll be right here,"

Felicity nodded and pulled a face and Oliver could tell she was stifling a yawn.

"You can sleep if you want to," he whispered.

"I don’t know how I can be so exhausted after sleeping for a week,"

Oliver chuckled and smiled.

"Promise me you won't go," Felicity said softly. "I mean, you can go if you want to, I'm not forcing you to stay here because I mean, technically I wouldn't even know if you left anyway because I'd be asleep but-"

"I'll be here when you wake up, I'm not going anywhere, I promise you,"

He watched as her body relaxed at his words and she closed her eyes again.

"And you're going to tell me everything when I wake up, right? Don't go thinking that I didn't notice that you never actually even started to answer my question from earlier," Even though her eyes were closed now, she smiled, one of her small and perfect smiles and Oliver felt tears in his eyes.

"I promise I'll try. I want to help you, Felicity, trust me, I do. And whatever you need, I'll- I'll try," He wanted to promise her so much more; he wanted to promise her that no matter what, he'd make her stop hurting, but he couldn't. Because he just didn't know what she needed anymore, she wasn't the same Felicity and it killed him to think like that but it hurt more to act like nothing had changed.

"I'm going to remember, Oliver. I can feel it," she whispered after a minute or so of silence, before her breathing slowed and she fell asleep.

Oliver sat watching her sleep for a long time, the rise and fall of her chest and her soft snores comforting him more than anything ever had. As soon as he was absolutely sure she was sleeping deeply, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you so much,"

Felicity hummed in her sleep and Oliver froze. But she didn't make another noise and stayed soundly asleep.

Oliver was soon all too aware of the deafening silence in the room. Minutes ago her voice had filled the silence, her warm and magical voice that could soften all the knots in his stomach instantly, but now she was asleep and the panic struck him that she might not wake up again.

He wanted to wake her, to make her open her eyes every single time she closed them just so he could be sure that she was alive. The feeling of losing her was still all too present in his memory and just because the doctor had said that physically there was no reason she wouldn’t make a full recovery, her wounds would heal leaving only scars and there wouldn't be any permanent damage, it wasn't enough to convince him. Oliver knew too much of death, had lost too many people he loved to take for certain that anyone he cared about was safe.

But it wasn't just that Oliver was scared of losing her, it was that he felt like he already had.

He didn’t know what was worse; having her never wake up, or having her alive but looking at him like she didn’t know him anymore.

Another sob choked him and he tried to stop it in case he woke her, but they kept coming and before too long his face and shirt were soaked with tears.

The last few months had been the happiest of his life, of their life, but she couldn’t remember them. She couldn't remember _them_. Couldn't remember _him_. At least not the him she lived with, the him that was in love with her, the him she'd said yes to marrying.

All the things she'd promised him, the times she'd told him that she loved him, the times they'd talked about growing old together and teaching their children how to dream and love... she couldn't remember any of that. It wasn't her fault, he knew that, but he hated her in that moment. He hated that she didn't remember the promises they'd made or the things they'd planned to do together.

Anger swept over him all of a sudden but for the first time that week, he was too broken to do anything about it. He had no desire to punch anything, to kill anybody, because the anger was at no one but himself. For being stupid enough to let someone get close to him and think that they wouldn't end up hurt. All he could do was let the anger fill his chest, slowly suffocating him from the inside out until the room was too small and there wasn't enough oxygen anymore. He needed to get out, he knew that, but he couldn’t leave Felicity; if he left her, she might be gone by the time he came back.

He took her hand in his again and lifted it up to his face, pressing his lips against her knuckles, and then he pressed the warm skin on the back of her hand against his cheek. Her skin was so soft, it was always so soft, he'd never felt anything softer, and even though his lungs were still somewhat failing to work, already he felt better just being close to her warm, soft skin.

She was the only person that made him feel safe. Nobody, not even his own mother or sister, had ever had that effect on him. Whether he was waking up in the middle of the night from a nightmare or had simply just had a long and exhausting day at work, all it took was to come home to her smile, and the rest of the world practically melted away.

He knew he would be fine eventually if he lost anyone else in his life. But not Felicity. If Oliver lost Felicity, he had nothing left. No one else would ever be able to fill the hole that would be left behind if he lost her. He'd never needed anyone in his whole life before now. But he needed Felicity. He needed her more than he needed air.

Oliver had never been one to let anyone in. He knew too much of disappointment, knew too much of loss to ever let his guard down fully. He'd spent his whole life on the edge of conversation, on the edge of life, never daring to inverse himself too much out of fear he'd never get out again, out of fear he'd start to need anyone but himself. Only needing himself to rely on didn’t hurt as much. If he was the only person to blame, the solution was always simple, it was easy.

He was fortunate, or maybe _un_ fortunate, in that the few friends he'd accumulated throughout his life all seemed to be just like him. His friends were the kind of people who liked to party, because when the music was loud and the booze was flowing, the numbness that usually cursed through their veins was dulled somewhat and things began to feel a little bit like living. Drugs and casual sex had the same effect, and to them it just was about looking like you were having an awesome time, and that was all. It didn’t matter to them that each and every one of them had a raging storm inside them, a storm that never seemed to subside no matter how much they poisoned their insides with shots of vodka or snorts of cocaine, a storm they were always all too aware of despite their best efforts to forget. Oliver went along with it all, because it was all he'd ever known; life had a habit of just dragging him along.

And then he'd returned from the island and found his father's list and shortly after had had to take that fateful walk on that fateful day to the IT department and all of a sudden, his favourite colour had been red.

Ever since that day, ever since he'd met Felicity, she had slowly and gradually been changing his life.

Oliver closed his eyes, counted to five and then opened them again. She was still lying there, sleeping soundly, her eyelids fluttering slightly as she dreamed, her blonde hair splayed out on the pillow beneath her. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes again and this time made himself count to ten. He repeated the process until he'd counted to 100, and each time when he opened his eyes, she was still there. His panic began to decrease the longer she remained there, even with his eyes closed and eventually, his heart stopping beating so erratically in his chest.

She was here, now, and he had to focus on that. Somehow he had to start trusting that she wasn't going to disappear if he closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave me a comment/review; every little helps!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Felicity begins to remember more and more of the pieces missing from her memory, Oliver starts to question what this could mean for their future together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the massive delay between updates but the last month has been ridiculously hard on me in regards to this story. I've never been so passionate and emotionally involved in one of my stories before, and so I haven't ever experienced the emotional and physical turmoil that comes with being so invested before now! I have cried waaaaaaaay too many times over this than I even care to admit ever since I last updated and I just hope so much that you enjoy this chapter!! The format is a little different just to deal with the passing of time; I was very conscious about this being boring or repetitive so I hope you find that it works! I have one more part planned after this to wrap it all up nicely and this chapter and the last one have a much lighter tone than the other two have. And when I say "lighter tone" I really do mean it. Unlike the writers of Arrow... *coughs*   
> Anyway, enjoy!! :)
> 
> Special thanks to Claire (@lemonlime799 on Twitter) for being my absolute saving grace last night when I was extremely close to giving up on this fic completely. She doesn't even watch the show, but yet she let me send her 1000 word texts about Oliver and Felicity until gone midnight UK time and I can't even put into words how grateful I am for that. She's an angel, an actual angel.

Three weeks passed before Felicity was able to come home. 

During the first of those three weeks, one of her wounds caught an infection somehow and the raging temperature that followed forced her into recalling a memory with terrifying intensity. 

It was the middle of the night and Oliver was watching her sleep, once again scared to go home and leave her now that she was somewhat sick again, wanting to stay by her side in case she needed anything, intermittently mopping her brow with a cool cloth as her temperature soared.   
She'd started to whimper softly and he'd squeezed her hand tightly, trying to make his way into her subconscious as she dreamed to remind her that he was there and he wouldn't leave her. Oliver knew all too well about fever induced nightmares, he'd had his fair share over the years, especially since being on the island, and he knew the toll they could take on the mind and body. He wanted nothing more than to wake her but that could often make things worse; jolting someone awake in the middle of a ghastly dream leads to disorientation and the feeling that even being awake again is a threat, and he knew it was best to just let the dream run its course until she woke up on her own. 

She was moaning incoherently, her eyelids flickering rapidly, her skin burning hot as he gripped her hand and stroked her arm.   
All of a sudden she screamed, her eyes flying open wide with terror, tears falling down her cheeks as she gasped for breath. She was clutching her throat with her hand, her nails digging into her skin and Oliver had to all but pry her hand down before she drew blood. 

"Felicity, hey, shsssh, it's okay, you're okay," Oliver whispered, over and over, not once letting go of her hand, tirelessly trying to reassure her. 

Felicity shook her head in response and tried to pull her hand from his. Her eyes flew around the room, desperately searching for any signs of danger. 

"Hey, look at me, please," Oliver tried again. 

She did, but only for a second before she closed her eyes tightly, her eyebrows and forehead creasing. 

"Oliver," she whispered, still breathing heavily so his name fell out of her mouth in pants. 

"I'm here, it's okay," he whispered back, not knowing what else to say. 

All he wanted was to pick her up and pull her into his arms but he knew she wouldn't let him even if he tried. 

"I think I- I was- We were-" Felicity was trying to speak but nothing was coming out and Oliver took the opportunity to lean over and cup her cheek with his hand. 

She leaned into his touch, something he hadn't expected, her head resting against his palm as she tried to regain control of her breathing. They stayed that way for a long time, or maybe it had only been mere minutes, and Oliver's arm arched from holding her weight so statically but he didn't care; he would stay frozen in that spot for the rest of his life if it meant being to close to her and feeling her warm skin touching his. This was the longest she'd let him touch her for ever since she woke up and there was no way he could ever let go now of his own accord. He'd been holding her hand whilst she slept that week, but as soon as she woke up he'd had to let go, so for her to be staying right where she was in his touch... it felt remarkable. 

"I remember what happened to me... what happened to us," was the first thing she said after her breathing returned to normal and it made Oliver's heart skipped a beat. 

He made an attempt to soothe her, a soft _shsssh_ began to slip from his lips but she opened her eyes and shook her head again, stopping him. 

"I thought I was dreaming but it's too real to be a dream. I can see it in my head now almost exactly as I can see anything else I remember, if that makes sense. We were in a limousine on the way back from... _somewhere_ and we were just talking and then suddenly we were being shot at and our driver, not Diggle like usual, thank god it wasn't Diggle, our driver was killed but you were there, you protected me and then I woke up here and you were gone. But as strange as it sounds, now it's actually real to me, it's not half as scary as it was when I thought it was a dream. Because you never get to the end of a dream, you know? You either wake up in the middle of it or you slip back into a deep sleep and can't remember what happened at all. But my dream ended, because I'm awake and I'm here, and so are you, you weren't gone after all. So it's okay, you know?" 

Her voice was just above a whisper, her cheek still resting on his palm, and as she spoke she really did sound peaceful, more peaceful than she'd sounded all week, and Oliver couldn't help but let an inkling of hope inside him swirl up as he thought about what else she could or might remember. 

"It's okay," he agreed, whispering softly, not wanting to break into the calm that had somehow settled around them. 

He felt Felicity smile into his hand and then almost as suddenly as she'd relaxed into it, she leaned away and back against her pillow. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I did that," she said quickly, and Oliver could see her cheeks blushing. 

His chest clenched at the force of which she'd pulled away but he willed himself to smile at her. 

"You don't have to apologise," he hummed in reply. 

Felicity closed her eyes again and shifted slightly as she got comfortable, a thoughtful expression on her face. She laid still for a few minutes and Oliver began to think she'd fallen asleep when she muttered, 

"I hope I can remember some nice things soon," 

 

A few days after that her fever dropped and the infection cleared up and she was almost back to her normal self, or the post-accident normal anyway, and upon hearing that she was a lot better, Diggle and Laurel came to visit her. Her face had lit up when she saw them, Diggle especially, and despite doctor's orders, she'd sat up and hugged him tightly as soon as he got close enough. She'd smiled shyly at Laurel, considering that in her memory they weren't exactly the best of friends, just favour friends, she recalled, and Laurel had smiled back, warmly, and explained that the two of them had actually grown closer over the time Felicity had lost to amnesia. Felicity had glanced questioningly at Oliver and he'd smiled too and then Diggle had laughed loudly. 

Felicity frowned at him, furrying her brow in confusion. 

"I'm sorry for laughing it's just... it's so weird the four of us being here under these circumstances, you know?" he'd said by way of explanation and suddenly it wasn't just Felicity who was frowning, Oliver and Laurel were too. 

"Oh come on, it's funny! How many times have we gathered in hospital rooms because one of us has ended up hurt on an Arrow mission? Too many for it not to be sort of hilarious..." Diggle continued, still the only one who was getting the joke. 

Felicity's eyes went wide as Diggle finished his sentence but before she could say anything Laurel chuckled and said, 

"It's okay, Felicity. I know. And believe it or not, I help you guys now," 

Oliver watched Felicity's face as Laurel spoke and saw her eyes scrunch in confusion before the confusion relented into something darker, something he hadn't seen in her eyes since she woke up from her nightmare a few days ago. 

"Laurel, your sister, something happened to her..." Felicity said, quietly, her voice shaking. 

Laurel moved to sit down on the edge of Felicity's bed, taking one of her hands in hers.

"Hey, it's okay. Sara's... she's okay. It's a long story, but she's fine now," 

"But she- something happened to her! I remember she- we buried her, Laurel, I remember that! How can she be fine?" Felicity was growing more hysterical by the second and Oliver ached to be the one holding her hand. 

He watched as Laurel squeezed her hand and brushed her thumb over her knuckle. 

"Felicity, I promise you, she's okay. I don't know how to explain to you how she's okay, but I promise that she is, okay?" 

"So she's not dead?" Felicity asked, and then she blushed and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out like that, I just mean-" 

"It’s okay," Laurel smiled. "And no, she's not dead," 

Felicity leaned back against her pillow and closed her eyes for awhile. Oliver watched her as she breathed, a controlled pace of breath, the way she breathed when she was moments from letting her anxiety run away with her. As he watched her his chest grew heavy with the weight of wondering what this was all doing to her inside. Felicity was strong, there was no doubt about that, but this was hurting her and messing her up, Oliver knew that, and yet he was powerless to do anything about it. 

"When were you going to tell me any of this?" she snapped suddenly, glaring at him. 

"I wasn't going to, I was waiting for you to remember on your own. I didn't want to hurt you if I could help it," he replied, his eyes softening as she continued to glare at him.

"Anyone else I should know about? Has anyone else died and then come back to life or joined Team Arrow without me knowing?" she snapped, and Diggle laughed again, "I can't believe you still call us that," before Felicity turned to Laurel and said, "No offence, welcome to the team by the way," with a smile. 

"Um, just Thea. She works with us too," Oliver stuttered, choosing to leave out the part about Thea also being brought back from the dead; he didn't want to be responsible for another of Felicity's anxiety attacks; the ones triggered whenever the world as she thought she knew it really didn’t make any kind of sense anymore. 

"Wait, you're telling me that you willingly let your sister put herself in danger just to help us? Oliver, what are you thinking?!" 

"Felicity, it's co-" 

"Don't you dare tell me something is complicated again, Oliver. I already told you, I just slept for a week, I didn't become inherently stupid all of a sudden," Felicity snapped, and Diggle grinned, a proud sort of grin as she spoke. 

"Thea is- She's well trained." Oliver continued after shooting Diggle an exasperated frown. "She can look after herself, Malcolm Merlyn makes sure of that," 

Diggle laughed loudly _again_ and Felicity snapped her head in his direction. 

"What could possibly be funny about that?" she demanded. 

"Oh, just that Merlyn and his little team of league minions also help us out from time to time, that's all," he chuckled. 

"Dig, don't," Oliver said, quietly but firmly. 

"What? If you weren't going to tell her, someone has to," he shrugged. 

Oliver pouted at Diggle and crossed his arms over his chest before turning back to Felicity. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but Diggle's right," 

Sighing, Felicity leaned back and rubbed her temples. Oliver couldn't help but watch for her reaction and Diggle and Laurel were looking at her cautiously too. 

Without even looking up, Felicity said dryly, "Can you guys please stop looking at me like I'm going to lose it any second and combust in front of your eyes? Because believe it or not, this isn't the biggest shock I've had over the last week or two. I'm fine," 

As she spoke, she glanced over at Oliver and met his eyes, the two of them sharing something profound even without words and it sent that tornado of hope spinning in his stomach again. Every time she looked him in the eyes, it was like she was remembering _something_. Nothing she could put words to, but something all the same. Oliver smiled, and she smiled back before Diggle cleared his throat. 

"I can’t believe after three years of the Oliver and Felicity show, you two finally get your shit together only for one of you to get memory loss..." he muttered to himself.

This time it was Felicity who laughed, and Oliver expected her to blush, but she didn't. She just laughed, the longest bout of laughter she'd had since she woke up from her coma, and before too long, they were all laughing with her, her infectious energy sucking them in as it always used to until their eyes were wet with laughter. 

"I missed you, John," Felicity said once she'd composed herself again, her eyes warming as they met his. 

"It's so good to have you back, Felicity," he smiled. 

 

A little over a week after that, Oliver was back at the loft. It was one of those rare afternoons where he wasn't at the hospital; Donna was there with Felicity when he left so he knew she was in safe hands. That afternoon Felicity had had physical therapy in preparation for her coming home at the weekend. She'd barely been able to leave her bed ever since the accident so to know that her wounds were finally healed enough for her to begin moving and walking again, albeit shakily and on crutches with a wheelchair close by in case she needed it, filled Oliver with hope that everything might actually be okay again one day. 

In terms of her memory, Felicity hadn't been able to recall much more since the day Laurel and Diggle visited, nothing hugely significant anyway, just a few small things that had made Oliver smile. 

Just the night before, she'd called him sometime after 2am to ask why she ever ended up working at Tech Village, more specifically she'd asked, "Why did any of you let me take a job where part of the uniform was those ridiculously hideous pants?" and Oliver had laughed for a long time after they'd hung up the phone. A day or two before that Oliver had been with her at the hospital and she'd been quietly reading her book before she put it down and asked him if he was still watering the fern she'd bought him for the Arrow cave, and then if he'd actually bought himself a place or was he still living on a cot down there. Oliver had smiled and told her something had happened to the fern, but he'd quickly replaced it with a new one which was doing well, and also that he had moved out and got a new place, and he shared that new place with her. She was silent for awhile after that and then she'd smiled and said that she couldn't wait to see his place when she got out of hospital. Oliver had gone on to tell her then that they had a new place to work now too, a bigger place with fancier equipment, particularly the newer computers with brand new software that worked in the blink of an eye (when they weren't overloading and crashing, that is) and Felicity had lost herself in asking questions about it all, her eyes shining with excitement when she realised out loud that she could see everything in just a few short days when she was well enough to go home. He'd asked her if she remembered anything more about the two of them and their relationship and she'd shook her head, sighing. She told him that there was nothing she wanted to remember more, because she could see the way he was hurting knowing that they weren't on the same page anymore, but she had said that she could feel things changing between them in a way she thought signified that she would remember very soon just how much they meant to each other. 

She was right, it did hurt that she hadn't yet remembered, especially since she seemed to remember so many little and meaningless things, but at the same time, things were easier between them the more time went by. He found he was able to talk more about their relationship without causing her too much guilt or embarrassment; she definitely blushed less on the occasions where Oliver forgot himself and accidentally shared too much too casually about his feelings for her. She didn't flinch if he took her hand anymore, in fact, she had started to reach for his first sometimes, usually when she was falling asleep at night, and she'd even kissed his cheek a few days ago before he went home, smiling at him so openly and warmly and lovingly that Oliver had sat in his car and cried for a long few minutes before he drove away. He began to remember just how good it had been to have Felicity in his life as his friend, his best friend and nothing more, and while the ache never went away while ever she couldn't remember how in love they were, being her friend made him realise that even if she didn't remember _them_ again, he'd be okay. 

He hated too that there were so many things that had happened in those two years she'd lost to amnesia; any normal sufferer wouldn’t have quite so much recall to do and of course, he blamed himself for that and he always would. He would always remember all the times Felicity had been hurt or had been in danger, or all the times he'd almost died and she'd had to witness it, and part of him hoped she'd never fully remember all of those things. Every time she fell asleep he prayed to a god he didn't even believe in that her dreams would be sweet and she wouldn't wake in a cold sweat after remembering something painful or terrifying. He knew Felicity didn’t regret the life she'd chosen with him, she'd told him that herself a handful of times, but he couldn't help wishing she could have had a "normal" life, something that wouldn't be quite so distressing whenever a memory came back. 

Oliver's phone ringing on the coffee table startled him out of his internal monologue and he answered without checking who was calling.

"Oliver, hi, it's Donna," 

Upon hearing the warm voice of Felicity's mother, Oliver smiled and then panicked instinctively. 

"Is Felicity okay?" he asked, quickly. 

"Yes, of course, she's fine. She's taking a nap right now and I wanted to just call and ask you something whilst she's asleep," 

Relaxing again, Oliver leaned back on the couch, tucking his legs up underneath him. 

"Sure, what’s up?" 

"Felicity and I were just talking, about you in fact and she- I think she remembers her first date with you, she just hasn’t realised it's a memory yet, I don’t think," Oliver could tell Donna was smiling, he could hear it in her voice and it made him smile too. 

"What makes you say that?" he asked, curious, that windstorm of hope once again twirling in his stomach. 

"Well, she told me she had a dream about you, about the two of you going out for dinner, and in the dream she said she was wearing a red dress that got completely ruined by the end of the night because of a terrorist attack on the restaurant. Now, I'm not sure if it's all a memory or whether some parts of it are mixed up with her dreams, but the way she was talking about your dinner, the way she could describe exactly what she was wearing and exactly what you talked about, it felt real to me. And I just wondered if you could shed any light on this, I mean, am I jumping to conclusions or is she remembering something?" 

Oliver couldn’t respond right away, his mind was playing over their date on repeat, snippets of their conversation flickering through his brain like a black and white movie on an old projector, the only colour he could see was the deep red of her dress and the bright blue of her eyes that night, the glisten in them from the 3 benzos she'd taken before she left to keep her nerves at bay, the smile on her face when he'd told her that he could remember the colour of the pen she was chewing on when he walked into her office the first day they met. 

"Um, I think she might actually be remembering something. Not sure about the terrorist thing though," Oliver chuckled, there was no way he could get into that without accidentally saying too much and it was so much easier to pretend that she had just gotten confused instead. 

"I knew it!" Donna yelled, and Oliver smiled again. 

He couldn't think of anyone who was happier when he'd asked Felicity to marry him than Donna was. Even over the thumping of his heart in his chest making his ears ring and the applause from the crowd, he'd heard Donna cheering and squealing louder than anyone. In fact, part of him still thought she was happier about it than Felicity was, he chuckled to himself. 

"Did she say anything else?" he asked, still smiling. 

"Only that under no circumstances was I to mention this to you... oops!" she laughed, and Oliver joined in laughing too. 

"Well, I won't say anything to her unless she brings it up, so don't worry," he replied, allowing the windstorm of hope to turn into a full sized hurricane in his stomach. 

 

The Saturday that followed was the day Felicity was able to come home. 

Oliver had arrived at the hospital that morning and was met as soon as he entered her room with a smile brighter than he'd seen in weeks. 

"My doctor just stopped by and he said I can go home this afternoon!" she beamed, fidgeting with excitement. 

"Hey, that's amazing, I'm so glad," he smiled back, leaning over to give her a hug, since hugs were officially allowed again now her stitches were out. 

"I am so ready to get out of here," she said as she hugged him back, her breath warm on his neck. 

He felt her kiss his cheek a second or two later and his stomach flipped. She pulled away from their hug but took hold of his hands, keeping him close to her and then she looked into his eyes, smiling. 

"I remembered our first date," she grinned, her eyes bright. 

Oliver chuckled. "I know, your mom told me," 

Blushing she dropped his hands and pressed her face into her palms. 

"I told her not to tell you!" she muttered into her hands. 

"She was excited," he laughed, sitting down in the chair next to her bed. 

There was a brief and comfortable silence as Felicity composed herself. Oliver watched her, he could watch her forever, and let his mind drift over just how far she'd come the last three weeks.   
She looked so... healthy. Her skin glowed and her eyes were no longer framed by dark circles and she was even wearing makeup today, he noticed, something she hadn't bothered to do at all since she woke up that first time. She was dressed, in a tank top and gym leggings, but she looked beautiful all the same; only a few remaining bruises on her uncovered arms, yellowish and fading, were any sign that the accident had happened at all. He knew the gunshot wounds under her clothes were still healing and covered with dressings, but besides that and the bruises, she looked just like herself, and Oliver couldn’t quite let himself believe that she was real. Because it felt too much, her strength and determination to get better and go home felt too much, no human should be capable of healing physically, and somewhat mentally and emotionally, in the way she had, and it took his breath away. She took his breath away.

"I want to come back with you, to your pl- to _our_ place," she said suddenly, looking up and meeting Oliver's eyes again. 

"Are you sure? You don't have to. You can stay with your mom, you know," 

"Oliver, I'm sure. I want to go home, with you," she smiled and the gleam in her eye told him she was almost cringing at the suggestion in her sentence, but she didn't, she just kept smiling, as though she had never been more sure about anything in her whole life. 

Oliver nodded, too stunned to say anything, and she giggled at him. 

"I told you I was going to remember, and the longer I put off actually going back to our home, even if I don't remember it, the longer it's going to take for me to do that," she smiled. 

"As long as you're sure that's what you want," he managed to say, unable to take his eyes off of her smile. 

"I'm sure it's what I want, Oliver. I want to remember everything and I want you to be there when I do. I want our life back, it’s all I want now," 

As she spoke, Oliver found himself smiling again, his eyes threatening to fill with tears at any moment, and for the second time in the same minute, _she took his breath away_.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please pretty please let me know what you think of this! I literally have poured my heart and soul into this and it required a massive amount of emotional investment…


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